


Candlelight

by SeaWraith46



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaWraith46/pseuds/SeaWraith46
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst moments of your life always seemed to happen by candlelight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during season 1, after the episode where Laura has a nightmare about a black cat being in their dorm room (episode 16). I know we're well past season 1 now but I had previously only posted this on tumblr and found it on my computer again recently so I thought I'd post it here too.
> 
> TW: blood, death

It was always by candlelight. 

The rooms were bathed in candlelight the night you took your first sip of champagne, their flickering lights shining back at you from the jeweled brooches and rings your guests wore and the champagne flutes held delicately in their gloved fingers. And the dancers, with their shy smiles and nervous glances, had cast fantastic, twirling shadows across it all.

Later that night, the second floor hallway leading to your bedroom had been lit by candelabras, each one sitting on an intricately carved wooden table. You had fallen against one of them after the knife slid against your throat, one hand gripping the edge of the wood while the other tried in vain to stop the flow of blood as it pooled on the carpet, shimmering in the soft light. 

It was by that same light that she had slipped from the shadows to kneel beside you. She pried your hand away from your throat and brought it to her mouth, somehow creating a pain far greater than that of your lifeblood spilling from you. But after the sensation passed, you found that the blood had ceased to flow and you felt, somehow, impossibly, stronger. She smiled, helped you to your feet, and called herself your mother. 

Later, much later, when her other, more faithful sons and daughters had held your limp, shaking, sobbing form upright, when she had signaled them to lower you into the coffin, there had been candles behind her. You could have sworn the candles were behind her, but somehow there were flames dancing in her eyes as the lid of your coffin was closed. 

And when you saw her again, after you had suffered and withered both below and above the ground, there were candles. The restaurant had them as centerpieces, lovely things decorated with holly for the winter season. You paid them little attention, however, after you caught sight of your mother from across the room. Instead of running you simply sat, waiting for her to notice you, watching the reflection of the candlelight dance around the curve of your wine glass. 

The worst moments of your life always seemed to happen by candlelight. 

So why did you light those candles tonight, after Laura woke yelling about her Lit reading? 

But you know why. It’s because the first time you held Ell’s hand was by candlelight, too.

It wasn’t actually the first time you’d held her hand, not truly. She had taken your hand many times before that, pulling you through her father’s house or across a field to show you some special trinket or secret place. But it was the first time you had reached out, had slid your hand into hers and laced your fingers together.

You had been staying with Ell and her father for almost two weeks before you were able to do it. You’d wanted to many times; when she read, balancing a book in one hand while the other picked at a loose thread on her dress, or every time she bid you goodnight with a soft kiss on the cheek. The fact that it was taking you so long to return Ell’s handholds and hugs and casual touches was confusing to you. You’d played through this same scenario so many times before with so many other girls, always able to match their genuine affections with your own convincingly acted ones.

But that was exactly why it had taken so long this time. You had to wait until you were absolutely sure you weren’t just playing along and mirroring Ell’s actions. It had seemed so incredibly important for anything you did with Ell to be true, to be doing it because you wanted to be doing it, not because you had trained yourself to. 

That first time you had taken her hand in your own, you had never been so sure of anything in your life, both mortal and immortal. And yet you had felt so simultaneously diffident. This was new. Wanting to hold someone’s hand because it was truly what you desired, not simply because it was expected of you. 

If Ell noticed that your hand was shaking that first time you wrapped your fingers around hers, she had made no indication of it. The two of you were sitting in the library, long-forgotten books lying in each of your laps as Ell told you a story. She kept speaking when you grasped her hand, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards into a grin, her eyes lighting up with excitement in the candlelight.

Ell was other kinds of light, too.

She was the bright, stunning light of midday as she ran through a field, arms outstretched so the tall, waving grass would brush against her palms. Turning back, she called for you to follow and you obliged, biting back a grin as you did so. You caught up to her and she grabbed your hand, pulling you downwards and sending you both rolling through the grass. When you came to a stop, the two of you laid, side by side, panting and laughing as you stared up into the cloudless sky. 

She was the dappled, shifting rays of sunlight that filtered through the quivering canopy of leaves to speckle her dress and hair. The two of you sat on the edge of a small stream, dipping your toes into the slow moving water and watching dragon flies flit across its surface. Or at least you thought that was what you were both doing. You looked at Ell and found she was staring at you intensely, so much so that you almost started. When you caught her gaze she smiled, but didn’t look away.

She was the fading light of a sunset as she stood leaning against the window of the library, determined to finish the next chapter before the sunlight dwindled away. Ell held the book close to her face but you could still see her expression, her features scrunched up in concentration. Depending on the happenings in her book, her brow might furrow slightly, or her lips twist as she fought down a smile. When it finally became too dark to read, she snapped her book shut with a soft sigh but didn’t move away from the window. She stared out at the garden below with a longing, pensive look on her face. You wanted to ask what kinds of thoughts were drifting through her head, but it felt like you would break something intangible if you did. 

She was the gentle, dewy light of a sunrise shining through the window of her bedroom as you sat behind her on the bed, running your fingers gently through her hair. Still half asleep, she hummed under your touch and you could feel the soft vibrations every time your fingers brushed against her skull. After several minutes, Ell’s eyes suddenly opened wide and she leapt up from the bed. You moved to follow but she waved you back as she scurried over to the vanity on the other side of the room. She opened a drawer and drew out a handful of yellow silk ribbons, explaining that she wanted you to braid them into her hair. Happily, you agreed, and she had you do it every morning after that, too. 

And Ell was starlight. There was the mischievous glint in her eye the first time you told her you loved to look at the stars. And on the next clear night, she had woken you at midnight, pulling you out into the fields behind her family’s home. You had laid down in the grass, hand in hand, staring up at the stars together. You had pointed out a constellation to Ell, laughing as she demanded you tell her everything you knew about the small, magnificent lights above your heads. Happily, you had obliged, rambling out the stories connecting the stars, so wrapped up in your tales that you almost missed the way she was looking at you. When you did notice you let your words trail off, staring at the starlight reflected in her eyes. She had asked to kiss you then. You nodded, closing your eyes as her face came nearer and seeing the faint echoes of starlight on the backs of your eyelids as your lips met hers for the first time. 

But Ell was also darkness. The deep, blank darkness that swam through her eyes as she called you monster, again and again. And the way she looked at you, her face blank and empty of the light you used to bring to it, hurt more than her words ever could. The darkness of your coffin was nothing compared to the void you saw in Ell that night.

That’s why you lit those candles tonight. You wanted to see what it might start, to see the light that Laura might be, too.


End file.
